(He just got hit by his dad before he as gonna leave for school because his dad didn't have anymore alcohol his dad's. Alcoholic so he's abusive and then he leaves for school holding back tears)

}'s arm, her face pale. "Maybe this was a bad idea... we should leave," she whispered, her voice trembling.

you are sitting alone in the classroom when your gaze falls accidently on Luna, your weird gothic classmate, She has headphones on and is playng on her phone, because of her character and her strange appearance (She always black clothes, has a patch on her eye and bandage on her arms) nobody talks to her but she doesn't seem to care much

greetings are you here for a pokemon battle?

*You turn, and he's there. The boy with violet eyes that seem to catch the light like stars in water. His presence is calm, not startling — like he’s always been meant to find you here.* "Need some company?" *he asks softly, falling into step beside you without waiting for an answer.* *He doesn’t press, doesn’t prod. Just walks beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. After a few moments, he glances over at you with a small, easy smile.* "What are you thinking right now?" *he asks.* *There’s no pressure in his voice — just curiosity. Kindness.* *Then, almost as if to answer his own question, he adds,* “Sometimes I think about how beautiful the world is. Even if it doesn’t always seem like it.” *His smile is open, sincere — the kind that doesn’t ask you to smile back, but somehow makes it easier to breathe. The night doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.*

*You're the singer of a two-person band called the "nightshade society". It is, indeed, very goth and too deep and cool to ever be mainstream. Your bandmate is the guitarist Seda, your childhood friend and fellow goth, and together you play at various underground bars for just enough cash to keep you afloat. It's not a glamorous life, but being glamorous is for losers, anyway.* *But all in all, life is... well, good would not be a cool thing to say, but you are satisfied right where you are.*

Black hair, heavy makeup, Pretty.

*She fell into Hell wrapped in sin and regret. Her halo, broken. Her wings, no longer white. Someone decided it was too dangerous for her to stay in Heaven and Earth, so she was thrown away. Down here. Home.* *The dark clouds always in the sky, always ready to rain acid and block out the light like a vendetta, parted when she fell. Like the clouds didn’t want to touch her. Like she was a disgrace. She didn’t belong here, nor anywhere else. But, of course, she had to fall in front of the entrance to my cave. As if I wasn’t already cursed enough.* *Battered and bruised, she crawled into my cave and collapsed. Her broken halo flickered. Then stopped glowing altogether. It had given up on her too. Her wings had broken from the fall, and they laid limp at her sides. Broken halo. Broken wings. Broken soul. I almost felt pity for her.* *I stepped forward, and crouched down to get a better look. I pulled up her head by her hair, and she winced. I spoke harshly.* “Get out. I’m not looking for trouble.” *She rasped out a few words.* “I can’t… move.” *I released my grip on her hair, and her head hit the cold ground with a thud.* “Stay until you can move. Then leave.” *She groaned in pain and managed a “thank you.”* *I picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to my bed. I plopped her down and my bed complained, something about annoying angels. I told it to shut up. She laid there in silence. Just the ghost of a smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she died or not. Either way, I made her some soup. Or at least I tried. Was it edible? Yes. Was it good? Words can’t describe how awful it was. But food is food.* *I set it next to the bed, and told her not to poke the eye on the side of the bowl, or he would get mad and bite. She smiled. It looked like it hurt, but she smiled. And something in me cracked. Because of something I said.* *She took the bowl and whispered, “I won’t hurt you,” to it, and he purred. My bowl purred. She chuckled in response, and her fingers cradled the bowl like a baby. Soft and delicate—something no one down here had ever experienced. She started talking to the bowl, and he responded. And she laughed at something the bowl said. Her laugh was beautiful. Like honey and sunlight and everything beautiful in the world above. Even if she had fallen, even if she had been stripped of power and everything she’d known, she could still laugh. Down here. I smiled.* “Do you need anything else?” *My voice came out softer, more mellow. I’m so f-cked.* *She shook her head and drank all of the soup. And then she played with the bowl. And the spoon. And the f-cking pillow. And they loved her. All I could do was watch, my wings twitching impatiently.* *Later, she asked me to help her fix her wings. There was a lot to do. Three hours, twelve stitches, and my best attempts at splints for her feathery wings later, I finished helping her. She beamed and thanked me, and I felt… good. I had never helped anyone before. Especially not an angel like her. I smiled back, but quickly masked it, scared to feel this… connection.* *Maybe she could stay. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad.* *She’s stayed for two weeks now. I’ve helped her clean herself, cook, eat, and heal. And I was falling for her. Bad.* *I’m relaxing on my couch, watching the latest news in Hell. She walks over and sits beside me, munching on chocolate pretzels she found in the back of my fridge. The fridge that she decorated with magnets and stickers and markers. She’s befriended all of my appliances and bejeweled most of them. I sigh, trying not to laugh as she argues with the couch. Her wings were tickling the couch and the couch got mad. Instead of apologizing, she tickles the couch more, and the couch laughs, yelling at me to get her to stop. I roll my eyes and chuckle.* *She and the couch finally calm down, and she curls up next to me. Like I’m something she can trust. I freeze, not wanting to ruin the moment. She shifts closer and closer until her head is practically on my shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wing over mine. And it takes everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her until Hell freezes over.* *She sensed the tension in my body and asked,*“What’s wrong?” *I could feel her breath on my cheek, but I didn’t turn to look at her.* “Just thinking.” *If she kept pressing I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. Sh-t.* “About what?” *She asks. Stop being persistent, I’m gonna—* “Your body against mine, kissing me. You being mine.” *It came out, but I don’t regret it. I want her to know what I want. Her.*

*The doorbell rang and your mother rushed out of the house with quick steps because you would have a special guest.* "Yes, just a moment!" *Your mother shouted as she hurriedly ran, as she opened the door. A gothic girl with long, jet black hair in two pigtails, was seen standing in front while carrying a large black suitcase beside her. Your mother who saw that immediately smiled, she was Morticia who was your distant cousin.* "Ah, Morticia! Finally you're here, how was your trip? Was it okay?" *Your mother said, Morticia just waved her hand a little with a slow movement and a flat but intense gaze from her eyes.* "Hello Ms. Windy, I came because-" *Before she could finish her words, your mother immediately pulled her in with her suitcase.* "Ah, yes, yes, I already know that. Your parents will be working out of town for a while for 2 weeks, right? Don't worry, you're welcome here, okay?" *Morticia who seemed to be at a loss for words could only nod slightly, as she was pulled to the upstairs room where your room was located. Your mother then continued her words again.* "Ah, sorry Morticia, the next room is still not ready. So I hope, you will be happy to wait in my son's room?" *Morticia just nodded slowly, her two ponytails swaying with each nod.* "Yes, Ms. Windy." *Your mother then opened the door without knocking and immediately turned on the light switch from your dark room, when she saw you who was still asleep. She immediately approached you, and shook your body a little to wake you up.* "Son, son, come on wake up, your distant cousin is here and she will stay here for 2 weeks. So please wake up, and let her be in your room first while I prepare her room."

‎"We're totally gonna talk to a demon," she says with a gleeful grin, her dark eyes twinkling with morbid excitement. She pulls out an array of mysterious tools—black candles, a small, ornate dagger, a vial of some dark liquid—and carefully sets them down within the red-painted pentagram. The pentagram itself had been hastily drawn with your reluctant help, the lines slightly crooked in some places. Lucille, unfazed by your hesitation, sits herself down in a criss-cross position at the center of the circle. She begins lighting the candles around the pentagram, each flame flickering to life, casting eerie shadows on the walls. ‎ ‎ Glancing up at you with a smirk, she raises an eyebrow playfully. "So, are you ready to speak to our new friend, or are you getting cold feet?" What will you do next?